Unchosen Ruler by Maggie Cole

4

Hailee

"Flea market?"I ask Liam, my pulse beating hard in my neck. I obsessed over him all night. It drove me nuts I didn't hear from him since I got the flowers. As soon as I saw them this morning, I threw caution to the wind and had to text him.

His greenish-blue eyes drill into mine. "Yep. Open until nine. New items every week. Thought you'd be into it."

My insides flutter. "Where is this at?"

"Elgin."

"You want to drive to Elgin in rush hour traffic?" I ask, still trying to contemplate a man like Liam going to a flea market with me. I've had one boyfriend who went once with me, and he complained the entire time. After that, I decided it was pointless to ask any guy to go with me. It ruined my fun and distracted me from the hunt.

He nods. "I'm free the rest of the night. Are you?" His typical fierce gaze morphs into puppy dog eyes that send my loins into overdrive. Liam's a concoction of confidence you don't want to mess with or question, but I can sometimes see a slight nervousness. I regretted sending him that video this morning because all day, I snuck peeks of his video. Several times, I got caught not paying attention and had to ask my students to repeat themselves.

Everything about him is beautiful and strong. There's also a vulnerability about him. Something seems fragile within him. I don't think the rest of the world gets to see it. I take a deep breath. "I don't have any plans. But do you want to do something else? I doubt the flea market is your thing."

His face lights up. "Nope. I'm ready to get out the camouflage and hunt."

I laugh. "Camouflage?"

"You'd look hot in some camo." Liam knocks on the window three times, and the car takes off.

Heat rises to my cheeks.

He rolls his head so his face is next to mine. "What are we going to look for?"

His woodsy scent fills the air. His face is so close to mine, my mouth waters. I'm suddenly sweltering and need to take my coat off, or I'm going to break out in a sweat from the heat of his stare and all the indecent thoughts I've had since I laid eyes on him.

I unbutton my jacket as I reply, "No idea." His eyes travel to my hands, and I freeze, thinking about the video I sent him.

What am I doing?

He's so out of my league.

Why is a bad boy taking me to a flea market?

His flaming orbs refocus on my face. "Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah. Did you?"

"I am now." He assesses me again then returns to his normally seated position.

I bite on my lip, relieved he backed off, my butterflies going so crazy, I feel slightly queasy. If he stayed that close to me, I might have done something I'd regret. My logic seems to be nonexistent around him. When I think about my lack of control to tell him it's a bad idea for us to pursue anything, it petrifies me.

Should have thought about that before I sent him that video.

I'm starting to wonder why I even need to contemplate starting something with him. That scares me even more.

He picks up my hand and studies it. My heart beats harder, and in an amused voice, he says, "Why are your fingers tinted blueish-green?"

"It was finger paint day. There was an accident." I fail to mention why it happened. I couldn't stop thinking about him and his sexy-as-sin wink and large hands unzipping his bulging pants.

"Were there any casualties?"

I wince. "Nope. Everyone survived, but little Jamar and Tamika are going to have to scrub their hair tonight."

He raises his eyebrows. "Did you have to break up a fight or something?"

"Mmm...more like they decided to be each other's art project, and I wasn't paying attention." I cringe, thinking about how I let my loins interfere with my teaching.

Liam chuckles. "Sounds like they had a fun time."

"Thank goodness it's washable. Maybe I should bring body paints to the next class," I joke.

"Body paint? Is that a thing?"

"Well, not for kids, normally. I think they call it 'adult finger painting.'"

Liam cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head. "And what does that entail?"

"You haven't heard of the latest trend?"

"Nope. Fill me in."

"Okay. They have nontoxic, edible paint you can pretty much put anywhere on your body. People pick a few colors, put it on each other, then have sex on a cotton canvas. Then they hang it in their house as a souvenir of their umm...activities." My cheeks grow hotter.

Liam stares at me with an amused expression on his face. "Have you done this?"

"No."

"Huh. And this is sold in stores?"

"I'm not sure. I saw it on the internet."

He moves his face closer to mine again. "What were you searching that you came across this?"

Every inch of my skin erupts in flames. I swallow the lump in my throat and admit, "My friends send me a lot of links to things."

"Really? What kinds of things?"

"You met them. I'm sure you can use your imagination," I quickly state.

"I'm not very imaginative. You're the creative one in this relationship. Why don't you fill me in?"

Relationship? My heart beats faster from the thought of being in a relationship with Liam. Is it even possible? The idea adds to my embarrassment of having to disclose to him anything my girlfriends texted or emailed me.

He presses. "Come on, Hales. I won't tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me. What did they send you?"

I put my hands over my face. "Ugh! Okay. Fine. I'll tell you. We kind of have this game going on."

"About?"

I turn more in my seat. "So, the four of us all try to outdo each other on the strangest things we can find. Such as toys. Or fetishes. Or comments random people make on blogs or other online forums about things they've done. Or strange things guys say to us online. It's been going on for years."

The corners of his lips turn up. "And do you then act upon these things?"

"Sometimes they do," I blurt out.

"But you don't?"

Jeez. How did I get into this conversation?

"I haven't."

"Why not?"

I skirt around the question. "Some of the stuff is kind of over the top?"

"Like what?"

"Bodily fluids. Things that should only go in the toilet."

Liam wrinkles his nose. "Good to know you're not into that. What else?"

"I don't really understand the furry animal craze."

Confusion fills his expression. "You mean beastiality?"

"No. However, that's gross, too. I'm talking about when people get dressed up in furry animal mascot costumes and have sex."

His eyebrows pierce together. "This is a legitimate thing?"

"Yeah. It's growing in popularity. You haven't come across it online?"

He hesitates then says, "No."

"Well, it's super strange to me. I can understand role-play, but the furry costume is creepy," I blurt out.

He licks his lips and stares at me.

"What?"

He scans my body. With a cocky expression, he asks, "What kind of role-play are you into, Hales?"

"I'm not!" I reply as my face burns so hot, I think I might need to crawl in a hole and never come out.

"No?" he asks, as if he's sure I am.

The truth is, I've never had anyone do anything crazy to me. The guys I date are all straitlaced, vanilla as they come. My friends are always telling me to date the bad boy, but I've never given in to the temptation.

In a teasing tone, Liam says, "So, your friends all try these things, but you never have?"

"Well, not the super-strange things. But some of the stuff they have," I admit. Time to flip this conversation off my super-boring, currently nonexistent sex life. "Why are you so interested in this? Do you have a bunch of crazy fetishes you've tried out?"

His lips twitch. Green flames glow in his eyes. "No. But I thought your naughty teacher video was pretty hot."

Jesus, help me.

I've never sent anyone a video of myself like that before. I'm still unsure why I chose to create and then send it, especially when I'm not supposed to even be in this car with him. To add to my embarrassment, I blurt out, "I've never made one of those before."

Why can't I shut my mouth today?

Satisfaction forms on Liam's face. It's swift and cocky, and I totally fall further for him. "Good. Let's keep it where I'm the only one who gets those types of videos."

Time to change the subject. "So, are you divorced, or have you always been single?"

His face hardens slightly, and I wonder if I hit a nerve. "Always single. What's been your longest relationship?"

And we're back to me."Two years."

"What happened?"

I shrug. "My mom approved of him, so I think I stayed with him longer than I should have. He's a nice guy. We didn't really have much in common. What about you?"

The same look enters his expression. "A year."

"What happened?"

He slowly inhales. "Life." The car stops, and he looks out the window. "That was quick." He opens the door and steps out. The cold air feels good from the heat of everything—the car, the conversation, but mostly just being in his proximity. He reaches in, takes my hand, and helps me out. Like the previous night, he puts his arm around me. It's protective. It's possessive. It's the gateway of everything my independent self never thought I needed or wanted. Somehow, I don't want to ever lose this feeling, and I'm not sure how this can be possible when I just met him.

Liam guides me into the building. He leans down and murmurs in my ear, "You didn't tell me how this works. Do we negotiate or pay whatever they ask?"

Zings fly through my neck and straight to my toes. I glance up. "Always negotiate."

"Great. I'm going to watch you in action, then. Show me what you got, Hales."

I laugh. "We have to find something first."

He glances around the large space full of aisles of items. When he turns back, he drags his finger across my forehead and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. "Lead the way."

We spend hours looking at different items. Some things are antiques. Others are junk. No matter what booth we stop at, Liam puts in as much effort as I do. It surprises me. All night, we laugh and talk about random things.

We get to the last aisle before something catches my eye.

I grab Liam's arm and freeze.

"What?" he asks.

"Do you know what that chair is?"

He glances at the wooden structure. "Should I?"

I glance up at him. "You call yourself Irish and don't know what that is?"

"Sorry, Hales. You'll need to fill me in."

I step closer to it and run my fingers over the scratched walnut. There's no seat or back. Intricately carved cherubs, vines, and fruit dance on the headrest.

"It's broken," Liam states.

"Can I help you?" a man behind us asks.

I spin. "How much for the chair?"

"Two thousand."

Liam laughs. "No, really. How much?"

It's actually a fair price. Restored, this chair can go for over ten thousand dollars. It's an early nineteenth-century Palatial Carved Irish Throne. But I'm not paying that much.

"I'll give you two hundred dollars," I tell the man.

"For a broken chair?" Liam bursts out.

"Do you know what this is, ma'am?" the man asks.

I play dumb and give him my most naive look. "No."

"It's an antique."

"Of what?" I innocently ask.

"It's an RJ Horner."

"It's broken," Liam repeats.

The salesman pushes his glasses on his nose. "Sir, do you know who RJ Horner is?"

Liam points to where the seat and back should be. "This is a piece of carved wood right now and nothing else."

"Sir—"

"How long have you had it?" I ask.

The salesman turns to me. "A few years."

"I'll give you three hundred."

Liam whistles. "That's a lot of money for a piece of broken wood, Hales."

"Sir, this is a Horner," the salesman reiterates.

"If I pick it up, is it going to fall apart?"

"It's an antique. You should handle it with care," the man states.

"Sir, you've had it for years. How many offers have you had for it?" I ask.

He scratches his bald head. "I'll give it to you for a thousand."

"Are you delusional?" Liam asks.

"Hey! I'm in business, and I know what that chair is worth refurbished."

"But you haven't done anything with it. And no one has bought it. My final offer is five hundred dollars. Take it or leave it," I say.

"Sorry. It's worth more."

"You're crazy," Liam says.

I smile at the salesman. "Okay. Thanks for your time." I turn back to Liam. "Ready?"

He puts his arm around me and scowls at the salesman. "First rule of business: Know when to cut your losses and move on. Let's go, Hales." He guides me down the aisle.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

"Wait!"

I spin. "Yes?"

"I'll take the five hundred," the salesman says.

"Great! Do you deliver?" I ask.

He nods. "Yes. Where to?"

"Chicago, near the south side."

"It'll be another hundred for the delivery fee."

"No. Hold the chair and my guys will come get it tomorrow," Liam instructs.

I look up at him. "You don't have to—"

"I need payment tonight," the salesman chimes in.

I dig into my purse, and before I can find my wallet, Liam slaps five hundred dollars in the salesman's hand.

"Liam. I can—"

He puts his finger over my lips. He addresses the salesman. "Can you wrap it up so it doesn't get any further damage, or do my guys need to bring stuff?"

"No, I'll wrap it."

"Great."

The salesman hands Liam a ticket. "It's all yours. Have your guys bring the ticket to claim it."

Liam escorts me away and leans into my ear. "That was fun. You stole it!"

I stop walking and glance up at him. "Do you know what it is?"

His eyes twinkle. "No. But he wanted two G's, and you got it for five hundred."

I laugh. "How do you know it's even worth the five hundred?"

"Because you wouldn't have offered it if you weren't sure."

"How do you know?"

"This is your thing. You're not an amateur."

"Attention, guests. We are closing in fifteen minutes. Please make any final purchases and make your way to the front of the store," a woman over the loudspeaker says.

Liam puts his arm back around me. "Let's go. I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Do you want to grab dinner?"

"Sure."

The automatic doors open, and we walk out into the cold night air. He says, "Okay. I don't know where anything is anymore, so you'll have to pick the restaurant."

"Okay. Are you picky?"

"No. Are you?"

"Not really."

We get in the car and he asks, "So why is that chair special?"

"It's an early nineteenth-century Palatial Carved Irish Throne by RJ Horner. Once I get done with it, I can sell it for over ten thousand dollars, maybe even twenty."

He puts his hand to his ear. "Sorry, can you say that again?"

"It's worth the two thousand dollars he wanted," I state.

"The broken chair?"

I laugh. "Yep."

"Wow. How do you know this?"

I shrug. "Years of hunting. My mom used to take my sisters and me when we were kids. She's the one who showed me how to refurbish and fix things."

"Fix what things?"

"Basics around my house. I can do electrical, plumbing, and all sorts of stuff," I admit.

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

He slides his arm around me. "You just became the coolest girl ever, little lamb."

No man has ever called me Hales, or little lamb, or spent time doing something I enjoyed without complaining or sulking. Liam was engaged the entire time. My resolve to stay away from him flies out the window. If this is a bad boy, I'll take him. "You were a good sport. Thanks."

"It was fun. Where do you want to go to dinner?" His phone vibrates, and he groans. "Sorry, Hales. I have to take this."

"It's okay."

"Dad—" His body stiffens. Liam's face hardens, and he stares at the ceiling. "Fine. I'm an hour away." He hangs up.

"Something wrong?"

He turns to me. "I'm sorry. Something came up with work. Can we do dinner another night?"

Disappointment fills me, but I can't be upset with him. "Sure."

He sighs. "I'm sorry, Hales."

Like many things today, I do something I normally never would. I straddle him and put my arms around his shoulders. I lightly drag my nails on the back of his neck.

Surprise registers on his face. His breathing shortens. His large, warm palm goes under my sweater and splays on my spine. He weaves his other hand through my hair.

I smile. "Thanks for surprising me."

He curls my hair around his fist. His lips are an inch from mine. "Thanks for getting in the car."

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I hoped you would." His gaze travels to my lips. He murmurs, "I like you, Hales." When his eyes meet mine, they're a fireball of lust mixed with vulnerability.

"I like you, too."

He tugs at my hair in a way I've only fantasized a man should do. The moment his lips hit mine, I'm a goner. It's not a gentleman's kiss. It's rough and possessive and so controlling, my breath is stolen. His hot tongue slides in my mouth, as if he's experienced a famine and I'm his first meal. His lips press hard against mine, as if he's afraid I might vanish and disappear. And I do. I melt into him and forget that we're two people.

Every moment of our kiss shows me everything I've been missing. Liam's a tidal wave, and I'm in the middle of the current, unable to escape the power of his hold over me.

One kiss leads to another. His hand slides down my back and into my pants, palming my ass. My knees sink farther, and I'm soon grinding on his hard erection.

I don't notice when the car stops until the door opens.

"Shut the door," Liam barks, and his driver obeys.

"Sorry, Hales."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I'll talk to him. He should knock when I'm with you."

I bite my smile. It's a bit overboard, but I find his reaction rather adorable.

He kisses me again then groans. "I have to go."

"I know." I return to his lips and several minutes pass before he pulls back. "Let me walk you upstairs."

"Okay." I roll off of him, instantly missing his arms around me.

He steps out of the car, helps me out, then leads me into the building to my unit. He kisses me outside my door. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure."

He hands me my backpack and opens my door. "Lock up."

"I will."

He gives me one last kiss, pats my ass, and I go inside. After I catch my breath, I throw on my pajamas and get into bed. I watch the video he sent me several times.

There's so much about Liam that's a mystery to me. Now that I've crossed into unknown territory, I figure I should find out whatever I can about him.

I'm still smiling when I type Liam O'Malley of Chicago into the search. Every cell in my body turns cold. I sit up in bed.

At first, I think it must be a mistake. I know Liam has a dangerous vibe about him, but how can this be? One article after another pops up stating Liam O'Malley, twenty-five, convicted of second-degree murder with a sixteen-year sentence. The state tried to charge him with first-degree but at the last minute changed it to second. My insides quiver, and my mouth turns dry. Tears well in my eyes until the screen turns blurry.

It's him. He killed another man at a bar in front of all to see. His arrest photo and several from court all show a younger Liam. In one photo, Nora and her brothers are several rows behind him. She's sobbing while Liam stands and has a hardened look on his face.

What have I gotten myself into?

Why didn't he tell me?

He lied to me.

No. He didn't lie.

He didn't tell me the truth.

Some of his hesitations now make sense. A roller coaster of emotions and thoughts fly through me. And I'm so confused about how I could still want someone who did something so heinous and couldn't even tell me the truth.